


A Shade's Touch

by vvheelthewriter



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ardbert and WoL are Soulmates, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, POV Second Person, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvheelthewriter/pseuds/vvheelthewriter
Summary: When she began her first night in the solace of a lavish hotel room, the Warrior of Light did not expect visitors. The in-between moments between Ardbert and the Warrior of Light during the events of Shadowbringers.
Relationships: Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	1. Voice

Light.

When you began your first night in the solace of a lavish hotel room, you did not expect visitors. You watched with sad eyes as the bright sky above the balcony betrayed her biological clock. The Exarch spared no expense on your rooms, treating you like a highly honored guest. Your eyes traced the kitchen table, stomach twisting unfavorably at the sight of food. You couldn’t decipher if this was a result of traveling to the First or your anxiety for the fight ahead. You chose to believe it was the former.

The air grew thick and tasted of aether. You supposed you should have looked surprised when you saw a man step out from the twisting shadows and into the light of your room, but he was the surprised one when you spoke back to him.

Ardbert was his name. You remembered one of his companions called him so. He introduced himself anyways, clearly bitter, understandably unhappy with his current state. You watched as his hand phased through a cup upon her dining table and listened to his diatribe about the First. When you looked at Ardbert, you did not see a ghost, but you did see someone haunted. Perhaps that was why you listened to him. Your souls bore similar burdens, but only you would refuse the darkness that licked at your heels, beckoning you to side against Hydaelyn. Where he failed, you would succeed.

You reached up, removing an earring, “Are you here to haunt me? Watch over in hopes that I fail?”

He didn’t look surprised at your questioning, but stood his ground despite his unsure words, “I’m not certain why I am here. Mayhaps to see you fail as I did.”

“Mayhaps,” your other earring came off and you set them on your nightstand, “mayhaps you’ll get your wish. This is a different world after all.”

“Solemn words for a woman who’s killed Gods,” he stepped around the room, peering at the shelves of books, the apples on the dining table, until his feet led him near the balcony. Here in the shining of the light you could see he was more iridescent, a haze surrounding him. You decided not to acknowledge it. So he was a ghost, perhaps a shade sent by Minfilia or Hydaelyn herself. But why?

You swallowed, staring at the wall before turning on him abruptly. He could have been sent by the Ascians for all you knew, best not to give him your back.

You did not speak to him again that night, too lost in your own haze and confusion. The Exarch warned you that your body would need to adjust and so adjust it did.

As you casually removed your outer armor, you kept an eye on the form at her balcony. He stood there quietly, staring for what felt to be entire turns of the clock. You did not keep count, only hummed to yourself idly as you removed the last of your armor and set it aside. When you lightly touched your clothing, needing to change it for the night, you turned to him and he was gone.

Your fingers danced across the clasp of your tunic, but dropped to your side. He was simply a shade, no more, but you still felt eyes on you. You slept in her tunic that night, dreaming of only darkness.

\---

His voice filled your thoughts, invasive, but a comforting sort of firm. He explained the history of Eulmore to you, introducing you to this part of the realm, as you searched for Alphinaud. The silver-haired Elezen looked at you curiously, knowing that even in the haunted days after Haurchefant’s death you did not seem to lose yourself so often. His inquisitive young mind peered at you over your shared stew, but he did not speak his worries out loud. You made no mention of Ardbert, nor that the man’s voice echoed in your head.

When Ardbert spoke of Amh Araeng, you noted the pain in his voice. You wondered if he was recalling memories or if he was just now remembering them as you tread across the amber sand. When you and a distressed Alisae faced down the newly turned sin eater as it fluttered and twisted below the might of the Lightwarden, Ardbert was quiet.

He’d visited you again that night, much more quiet than he’d been the first night. You yourself had no words as you carelessly removed your armor and tossed it on the dining table. He watched you silently, though his presence was enough that you could feel his aetherflow. 

Despite his circumstances, he certainly did not feel like a spirit. It was different when you saw Haurchefant and Ysayle at the battle in Ishgard. Then they had felt light, like shards of ice-glass dancing in the air. Ardbert feels heavy, strange and fiery like the hum of a dragon’s breath.

“I don’t watch you when you change.” It was the last thing you’d expected to hear from him and your normally impassive face must have betrayed your confusion, because he continued, “I’m only visiting you. I don’t stay.”

“What does it matter to a spirit? Seeing me like this?”

“Spirits have morals. I have done my fair share of harm to this world, but that is not the man I am,” he seemed offended by her questions, brows furrowed and voice a near growl.

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know enough.”

“Mayhaps,” you would play this game with him, if he was truly inclined to give you no answers, “do you know why you are visiting me yet?”

“No,” he hummed, tilting to look over your shoulder at the balcony, “I still believe I am here to see you fall and nothing more.”

“Do you?” you nodded, “I’m afraid to disappoint.”

“I once was. You cannot save this world, Warrior.”

You would not run your conversations with him around in circles, “What do you know about me?”

“Your world heralds you. When I was in the Source I met countless people who spoke of you.”

You looked at him with discomfort, unwilling to bask in any praise, let alone this kind, “Did the people of the First once speak of you this way?”

“Maybe. I refuse to recall a dead world.”

You looked at him sadly and you saw him grow uncomfortable with your pity. Before he could step back into the shadows, you approached him and reached to touch his arm. It was a moment of madness and you expected your hand to simply phase through him. Only...your fingers touched the leather of his arm guard and he was warm. You blinked, surprised for the first time in many moons, many more turns of the sun.

When you looked up, something had changed in his blue eyes. He looked almost frightened, though he did not flinch from you. He swallowed, opening his mouth to speak, but instead he gently pulled his arm away and stepped back, shadows dancing across his greaves and consuming him. He was gone and you felt no eyes on you.

Your hand was still raised, still warm from his skin and you lowered it slowly. You’d touched him. He was supposed to be a shade, a spirit, a ghost and yet you’d felt him as if he was there. The bits of you inside that were touch starved relished the feeling of him. Your rational side quickly overcame such feelings.

You changed that night, more comfortable in a loose tunic rather than your traveling one. Hair spilling across the pillow, you stared hard at the light filtering in from the balcony. Because of it, you did not need lanterns or candles. You slept dreamless again that night, a part of you wishing for black skies as you remembered the anguish on Alisae’s face.


	2. Everything

Warrior of Darkness.

No, you weren’t like him. And yet, the shade behind you seemed to grow amused as you turned away from the sparkling night sky. You’d watched as citizens of the Crystarium wept openly at the sunless sea above them and heeded the warning not to reveal your own actions.

He told you he’d been watching you. This act was strangely intimate.

Closing the door, you watched as Ardbert paced the room again. He was unable to manipulate any of the objects in the room. A ghostly hand hovered over the weapon you’d tossed onto the kitchen table. It was cleaned of gore and the rot of monsters, but you still did not wish to gaze upon it for the evening after such a harrowing battle.

You’d seen a feathery egg of white caulk coat a grizzly bear and shift its form into that of an ethereal, dangerous being. you’d defeated a Lightwarden without suffering the sin eater taint yourself. The Source had asked for a Warrior of Light and here in the first, after tearing the light from the sky, you became the Warrior of Darkness.

Scout blinked, unable to hold you stare at him for long. You would not challenge a ghost.  
Ardbert’s eyes matched the open sky, but he was filtered shut. A mystery still. You bit your lip, unable to determine if the man was friend or foe. Perhaps he was neither.

“What do you find so interesting about my weapon?”

He did not immediately answer. His hand could do nothing to even move your weapon, but it traced the hard edges and powerful craftsmanship. This weapon was precious to you, as few things were anymore.

“Have you decided if I am your enemy?”

You wondered if he could read your mind. Perhaps your thoughts were plain on your face, “No, I don’t think I have decided.”

He nodded, “I hold no stake in you.”

“Truly?”

He pursed his lips, clearly not having expected you to press him, “Truly.” The words sounded hollow.

“Did you feel it when I touched you, Ardbert?”

He furrowed his brows, looking anywhere but you, “I felt nothing.”

You sighed, not believing him. Shades and their secrets. Were he to spend time in your rooms, you would unravel him in time. As you did with everyone. You did not consider yourself to be a remarkable person, God slaying aside, but you knew how to separate people from their secrets and insecurities. What made you pure of heart was that you did not use these to hurt others. you stared at Ardbert.

Unless you had to.

\---

He’d scolded you beneath the waters of Dohn Mheg, only minutes after you’d taken its monster king down. you did not hold high hopes for his faith in you when he’d cursed at you like an annoyance.

Of course he was always watching, but you wondered if he’d had much of a choice. When they’d arrived in Il Mheg, he’d been agitated and his feelings resonated enough in you head to portray a scowl on you face. Alphinaud had questioned you look softly and you’d only shook your head. There was no need to worry your friends with the feelings of a ghost. These thoughts seemed to agitate Ardbert more.

He’d described Il Mheg to you with a strange tone, like he was bothered yet solemn. He’d only revealed to you that he knew of their origins as the souls of dead children once you was underwater, swimming uselessly in place as you watched him speak. The man glowed before you, brighter heree in the mossy green waters. But as you broke the surface and inhaled the fresh pollinated air around you, you quickly lost you thoughts of Ardbert in hopes of finding Urianger and you friends at the shore.

\---

Shrouded between the tall pines of Wolekdorf, you met an enormous amaro named Seto. You could feel Ardbert stiffen within you when the great beast called out his name in a dreamy agony. He missed his friend. You felt your chest ache when the amaro spoke to you. You claimed that your quest was to save the world and Seto sent you on a small journey to find a medallion Ardbert had given him a century ago. You thought it lost to time when you saw the glimmering object beneath the waters of the lake.

Returning the medallion, still damp and tired from your swim, you listened to Seto’s story. You felt his shade appear behind the thick pines, hidden away from the others, and made no move to reveal him. You felt his pain. He was mourning. You mourned with him, but you would not move to comfort him. You were unsure a ghost would welcome such a thing, even if he could be touched. Instead, you spoke, “I’m sure Ardbert knows how you feel.” The smile you gave Seto warmed him and, you could feel, warmed Ardbert as well.

Seto tilted at you with his large head, shining black eyes peering at you with a keen sensitivity you’d never seen in another creature, even your own chocobo, “You remind me of him.” He spoke of your soul, of seeing Ardbert’s soul mirroring yours. The words shocked your core slightly, though you remained quiet as the amaro observed you. He saw your souls as one, you knew it then. Though you did not understand what this meant.

\---

Ardbert was silent with the arrival of Emet-Selch. Within your mind, desperately hoping the Ascian could not hear what you were doing, you called out to him.

Ardbert, tell me he’s a liar. Tell me not to trust him. Tell me his words are too good to be true as they were for you.

You could not help that sliver of hope you yearned to place in the Ascian’s hands. Emet-Selch was a snake in the grass. You would not be like the last Warrior of Darkness.

Perhaps it was this resolution that brought Ardbert back to you. Back to you rooms in the dark of the night.

He spoke about Emet-Selch with thinly veiled hate and you did not blame him. He was only reassured when you told him you had no plans on fully trusting the Ascian as you began to unclasp your armor.

If Ardbert were a man and not a shade, you would have thought him jealous of the Crystal Exarch. He’d attempted to tease you about the man watching you through his mirror and keeping you well fed, but there was an edge to his words. You wondered if perhaps he was jealous of the air you breathed and the life in your soul rather than your relationship with the Exarch.

You stood in front of him, suddenly pleased when he brought up Seto. He spoke with such love and kindness that you couldn’t help but openly smile. You noticed him almost blush with embarrassment as he switched subjects to you chocobo, “Tell me something.”

So you did. You sat at the kitchen table and happily ate you sandwiches, chattering to him about chocobo training. How you taught your own to kick with his feet in a swift action move and how he could heal you as you fought off random beasts that threatened you on the road. He returned you stories with his own, telling you of his time with Seto.

Once you were done, you blinked in surprise at first the empty basket of sandwiches and then his sudden burst of laughter at you, “You’ve an appetite after defeating Titania, I see.”

You flushed, “Must you tease?”

He raised his hands, “You’re right, I yield. I cannot hope to judge when I cannot partake myself.”

The thought made you sad but you attempted to keep your smile, “May I ask you something?”

He seemed to sense your sudden seriousness and grew solemn, “Go right ahead.”

“And you will tell me the truth?”

“Mayhaps.”

“Mayhaps…” you pondered the thought.

He grew flustered and furrowed his brows, “Alright, you’ll have the truth of me. Just ask.”

“Did you really feel nothing?”

He paused for a long moment, “No.”

“No as in you felt nothing or no as in you felt something?”

“I felt everything. Every bit of you I felt it. Don’t do it again.”

“Why?” you tilted your head, not understanding. Did he not yearn for touch? Even platonically, the pain he must feel...the loneliness…

He cleared his throat, well and truly uncomfortable, “It does no good to remind me of what I cannot have.”

you stared at him. Ah. you nodded, “Ardbert-”

“Please, don’t.”

You didn’t. You allowed him to leave, settling in the quiet. Your rooms were cool and safe from the chilly night air, so you turned to ready for bed with your weapon safely tucked away. You bit your lip, slipping under the covers, and turned onto your side.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you felt a presence against your bed. You knew it as Ardbert, for you knew what it felt like to have him near. He was sitting on your bed, near your side. You could hear his breath.

His hand was warm as it hovered above you and you wondered behind closed eyes what it would feel like to be touched by him. Both intimately and not. When you blinked awake, still undecided, you found him gone. The bed beside you was undisturbed, but you felt cold.


	3. Souls

In the Rak’tika Greatwood, the air smelled of moss and sweet leaves and the trees sang. You sat astride your cooing chocobo and listened along your journey to the caves called the Woven Oath.

When the fighting was through and the caves were cleared, you stood before three great murals of old and was pondering their age with Y’shtola nearby when Ardbert appeared to you again. To your surprise, he told you much of his association with one of the murals, having known the artist. You could vaguely see in the scratched paint an outline of Ardbert and your eyes widened.

Ardbert did not look sad or surprised when he spoke of his suspicions of the artist attempting to erase his mural of the Warriors of Light after the Flood. It seems that time and death gave him great acceptance into how the world of the First hated him and his friends.

Will you be a monument? He’d asked and you’d had no answer. You wanted nothing of praise like this. To be prized as a statue or painting forever only to be lost to the throes of time. The idea frightened you more than any primal. More than any Lightwarden.

Y’shtola, as perceptive as she was, never saw Ardbert, nor did she catch you ever talking to him. It was a blessing, for you did not want to worry you friend. There were far more important matters to be on her mind than to worry about the Warrior of Darkness’s mental capacity.

\---

For a moment in your hotel room, you forgot yourself. you began to undress, throwing her armor to the ground and frantically looking at your skin for white ceramic texture. Panting, you found nothing, but not without effort. Still dressed but disheveled, you were startled when Ardbert appeared before you, saying you looked the same to him.

You swallowed, “I am suffusing with the light of the wardens. With each I kill.”

“I know,” and his tone was gentle, so gentle it calmed you.

“Hydaelyn is a primal,” you then shook your head, “no, it cannot be.”

“There is much weight in the words of an Ascian. Take care in what you believe.”

“Fair warning, coming from you,” it was cruel. you knew it was cruel and yet you said it all the same.

He said nothing for a long while, only paced around the room. you could hear his footsteps. If not for the faint glow it would have been like he was truly there with you and not a shade...not a ghost. You sighed.

Continuing, he lightened the conversation and brought her back to reality. You breathed, relaxed. He called himself another sinner. You could understand that feeling. You were no saint either. No savior. He told you he cherished the quiet after the storm more than the adventure. You smiled. You truly were just alike.

That night, he stayed and watched as you tossed and turned. You knew because you felt his presence. In a fit of fear, you reached out and grabbed at the bracer on his arm, feeling the sheep’s fur like he was truly there. You felt him freeze, despite already knowing he’d been sitting at the edge of her too large bed. You continued to pet the wool gently, feeling sparks of energy flow from your fingertips to where he began. And with this small comfort you were asleep again.

\---

The Battle of Lakeland was a bloody mess. Though your side had won, you felt truly ragged by the time you’d reached the Hills of Amber. Ardbert had remained unusually quiet for the journey, only piping up to introduce her to the area. When you mentally asked him if he was alright, he only replied that he had seen things in the battle that he was unprepared to relive when he could do nothing to help. You grew sad, not needing any more details from him. If you were a shade, you could only imagine the horror of watching war and being unable to help.

In a vision, you saw Ardbert’s argument with Minfilia as his friends made their last sacrifices to stop the Flood. Something in Minfilia’s eyes told Ardbert that there was no argument. That he must stay with Scout on her journey. This purgatory he was cursed with was solely for her benefit. The sight crushed your heart, but you saw the determination in Minfilia’s eyes. You would not let your friend down.

You still felt that weight as you stood riding the Ladder with Ardbert, but when you turned to look at him, you saw nothing but determination on the man’s face. He was here with you until the end. So long as he was completing this mission, he was at peace. You saw this and felt your heart lighten.

\---

Vauthry.

Innocence.

You inhaled the mountain air and it tasted stale. The sky taunted you, taunted your efforts. You wanted to collapse, to tear out your hair and scream at fate’s cruelty towards you when you had spent years, nearly a decade, only helping and helping without return.

None of this showed on your face. This wasn’t even your world and yet you felt so responsible. You knew this must have been what Ardbert felt.

The shade...Ardbert...he seemed to enjoy touching you now. Something in him changed. He fist bumped you casually, like a mate at a pub in Uldah. You could almost taste the ale on your lips as Ardbert smiled at you and said, “What happened between us was no coincidence.”

So much has happened, but you still didn’t know the depths of you and Ardbert. Perhaps you would never know. Ardbert seemed unbothered by the whole mess, so you smiled back at him.

He called you a hero. He declared his lot cast with yours. He vowed to stay by your side. Your chest tightened and when the touching was over, you casually reached out and laced your fingers with his. He seemed surprised by the action, but your face gave nothing away. This was your vow. Your confession. Your lot was cast with him as well.

\---

Weeks later, you stand in the darkness of your rooms. No candles, no lanterns. Here, everything is shown on your face. You’d managed to scrub off all the blood and soot, but you felt no better even in a fresh tunic. Your feet were cold. Your heart was cold.

He was with you, always with you. Ryne and Y’shtola could see him in the very threads of your aether, but he was gone. It was his purpose to walk you into hell and fight by your side, but you dared not hope that he would return with you, even as a shade. Your chest ached painfully, a burning that not even the fires of Amaurot matched.

Despite the chill, your body felt aflame and you quickly undressed, redressing in a loose cotton robe. You blinked away tears, pushing your hair from your face as you opened the balcony doors to stare up at the stars. It was then that you felt a pulsing warmth behind you and you gasped.

You knew it was Ardbert before you’d even turned. You knew the feeling of his soul.

He stood there, ethereal and iridescent but there, “I haven’t much time.”

You did not know whose gift this was to you. It was something you could ponder later. For now you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. It was unlike you to waste time. It was unlike him to have much at all to waste.

He kissed you in return, gloved hands wrapping around you to cling to the thin fabric of your robe. You panted, pulling back only slightly. He glowed like the moon and yet you could feel and taste him like he was there, “I don’t- what can we-”

“Here,” he began, leading you backwards towards the bed and laying you down. You leaned up again to kiss him, fingers finding his hair and combing through the soft locks. You felt the tickle of his beard and the leather of his gloves on you. By the Twelve, you felt him!

It was no easy task, being soul mates with a dead man. You would be hard pressed to believe such a thing only a year ago. But now nothing else mattered but the weight of him as he pressed you into the mattress. You clung to the fabric of his armor, wanting him as naked as you, but he only gently shook his head, “No time, my love. No time.”

The words ached you, but he kissed away the pout upon your lips. You leaned up, kissing back with as much passion as you could, everything you’d held back in the months since you first came to the First. He swallowed your moans as he opened your robe, running gloved hands down the length of your strong body. When he reached your core, he took his time to rub at you with skilled fingers. You sighed against him, nodding when he broke the kiss to look into your eyes. You looked at him and you saw Hydaelyn blue. You saw the skies on the safest days. You saw home.

You whispered when you spoke next, “Make love to me,” and before he could retort you continued, “before our time is over.”

He swallowed, nodding, and you watched as he settled himself between your legs, hands reaching to unlace his pants and adjust his armor. It would be messy and slightly uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. It would be him.

When he sheathed inside you, you saw new stars, new constellations. You gasped, voice in sync with his own moans of your name. Your true name. You purred in his ear, “Ardbert, my Ardbert,” and he timed his thrusts with your screams, maximizing your pleasure.

He stayed inside you for as long as he could, even after you both reached your peaks. You felt him soften inside you and your heart fluttered. You fell asleep with soft kisses pressed into your neck, whispers of your name, of promises to come back someday. Promises he couldn’t keep.

\---

You awoke in the morning and the sky was as blue as his eyes were when he made love to you for the first and last time. You sat up, clutching your robe to your body and tying it before you began to get ready for the day. A letter slipped under your door, informing you that G’raha Tia wanted to meet with you and begin discussions about getting your friends home. You felt a bright sparkle in your newly joined soul and smiled. Your work was never at an end.


End file.
